Astraea
by Mrs Whomever
Summary: A young woman found on a destroyed ship just might be Kratos' only chance at true happiness. But will he let down his walls to let his daughter in?
1. Chapter 1: Meeting

Kratos groaned, and pulled his blade out of the demon's chest with a loud squelch. Yet another demon killed in service to the Gods, yet another moment wasted before redemption from his past. Kratos stifled a sigh, and walked away from the bleeding carcasses he left behind. Devastation, destruction...chaos. It was all he knew. Ever since he was the youngest captain in the Spartan army, when people were in awe of him, and praised instead of cowering, hailed, instead of cursing him and betraying him. All he ever wanted was success and power, for himself. If only Kratos knew then, what he knew now, _his child...his wife..._Kratos cursed himself for reminiscing on the ghosts of his past. He could never show weakness, never surrender, that was the Spartan way. He looked down at his pale skin. The Spartan way was all he had left, that and the hope of redemption from the Gods.

"Kratos" a voice called. He turned, and met the white gaze of hisstatue of Athena. "Athena" Kratos greeted, back still turned. He had no time for the God's games. He wanted to rest. Wanted to find some other no-name women to bury his sorrow in. "Kratos, a ship is in desperate need of your aid, go Ghost of Sparta, for it is coming, for on that ship, is a piece...of your destiny" The light faded from the Goddess' eyes. Kratos clenched his jaw, and looked out to sea, waiting. As if on cue, a flaming ship appeared, screams beckoning the warrior. Kratos grasped the rope hanging from his mast, and swung, landing gracefully, with a thump. The men were running everywhere, fleeing from the risen centurions. Cowards. Kratos would've spat on them. Quickly and easily, Kratos dispatched of the stinking corpses, killing them once more. A clashing of swords drew his attention to the higher deck. Kratos stared, almost taking a step back in surprise. A young women, no older than 20 years of age, was fighting heroically with a demon. With a grunt, she plunged her feeble sword deep into the centurions heart. Blood covered the girl's fine face, and she didn't even flinched, seeming far too comfortable with the bloodshed for any normal female. The woman turned, and Kratos took in the sight for the first time.

The girl was blond, her hair tied back in a knot at the back of her head, out of the way when fighting. She had a striking face, her piercing green eyes menacing. She wore a blue split skirt that still revealed nothing, and a tunic that covered her chest. She was very modest for a women. "Don't help or anything, Kratos" she called, sarcastically. Kratos was stunned at such insolence, but merely turned away. Liquor, was indeed in order. "Wait" Kratos halted, stiffening. The voice was filled with knowledge no girl should have, and Kratos was surprised with a need to comfort the child. "You're hurt" she said simply, placing a hand gently on a Kratos' torn back. Kratos swung around, gripping the wrist tightly in his hands. The girl didn't even flinch, but just stared at him with haunted green eyes. "Why do you help me, child?" The girl smirked, "I'm no child, Kratos, and you just saved my life. Is it against Spartan law to accept help from a humbled warrior?" Kratos released her, throwing her to the ground. "You are no warrior! I do not need your help" The girl coughed, trying to get air into her lungs. "Then accept help, from kin" Kratos stepped back, finally letting his shock seep through his facade. "Kin? You are not my family. My family is dead" The girl nodded, standing up. She brushed her hair back behind her ear, and stared up at Kratos through the rain. "My mother told me all about you when I was 16, before she abandoned me at the soldiers quarters, for the soldiers pleasure. I have been through much pain because of her _'love'_." Kratos glared at the stubborn girl, not used to being spoke too in such a way. "I'm your daughter, Kratos."

Kratos stepped back, mouth falling open slightly. Now Kratos looked closer, he saw himself. He saw his jaw, his stern gaze, his defiance and his skill with a blade. "My name is Astraea, Father, and I wish to help you. Then, you may decide what to do with me" Astraea fell to her knees in respect, raising her hands to her father. Kratos raised his blades reflexively. Astraea grew solomn, but flashed a determined look in her eye. "So be it, do it with my sword, so then it was suicide, Father" Astraea lifted her blade, hilt first, offering it, head bowed. Kratos took it, hand shaking slightly. He looked down at the girl, awaiting her death. Kratos raised the blade, ready to strike. He stopped. This wasn't any girl, this was **his **girl. **His** daughter. **_Astraea_**. She looked up. "Father?" Kratos threw her blade to the ground. "A warrior never shows weaknesses, child, you should learn that" he growled, helping her to her feet. "What's going to happen to me?" she asked, looking the pale man straight in the eye, unflinching. Kratos pulled her by the elbow to the edge of the ship. "Your skill with a blade is formidable, but needs to be perfected" was all he said. Astraea knew. She knew her father wanted her safe, something her mother never did. "Father? Thank you" she muttered. Kratos turned, and allowed himself a moment of weakness. He brushed his dry knuckles against her soft, pale cheek, frowning at the happiness emerald eyes at that simple show of non-sexual affection. His daughter had been hurt at those soldier's quarters, raped and tortured for men's pleasure. Kratos would stop at nothing to hunt down the people that hurt his haired, green eyed daughter. "Indeed" He picked her up easily, and jumped off the burning ship, swimming back to his own. Astraea's dress billowed out behind her, making her looked like a pale daughter of Poseidon. Kratos appraised his daughter, she was a pretty thing. Her arms tightened instinctively around her father's neck, making Kratos grin to himself. Still just a child, no matter how much she pretended. All these years of suffering may not be over, but maybe Kratos did not have to face them alone.


	2. Chapter 2: Unknown Village

_Laughing, male, taunting. Astraea looked up, wiping the blood from her eyes. Her dress was torn, and bloodied, her body broken, and ripped apart. She had been at this hell house for two months, and every night she was visited. Every night she prayed to any God or Goddess that would listen, to spare her from the men's desire. Every night, those prayers went unanswered. Astraea had stopped crying, standing up and walking over to the middle of the room, waiting. Blood dripped down her legs, arms and torso, where men ripped, plundered and maimed. She held her blonde head high, green eyes defiant, waiting. Her Father was the Ghost of Sparta, she should show no fear, to honour him. Kratos was a good man. Astraea had to believe that he was, for it was the only thing that got her through the days and nights. Three drunk men stumbled through the chamber door, cackling. "Look who it is, the Spartan whore!" they jeered, throwing bottles at the woman. Astraea dodged them, unimpressed. "Where's your Mother and Father now? No one wants you, well, apart from us" Astraea closed her eyes, and clenched her teeth, waiting for the first blow. A punch to her stomach winded her, pushing her to the ground. Laughing surrounded her, she screamed, feeling the tear, the burn, the rip..._

"Astraea!" Kratos roared, all but shaking the girl awake. Astraea jumped up automatically "Father?" Kratos sighed, and stood up, looking down at his disheveled child. Her hair was down, a curly mess down her slender back, and her green eyes frightened, but hiding it well. "We are here, daughter, we may rest for the night" Astraea nodded, standing off the chair she had fallen asleep on. She tied her back, and sheathed her sword in the hidden scabbard underneath her skirt. She ran to catch up to her Spartan father. "Father, where are we?" she whispered, looking around her. The place was in ruin, and beggers surrounded the pair, pleading for money. "It is a village unknown to many, but it supplies warm beds, nothing more" Kratos replied, tensing with every stranger passing them. Both his experiences, and the need to protect his daughter, spurred him to suspect everyone. The Spartans pushed through the crowd, and made their way to a small Inn. As soon as the two stepped onto the threshold, the patrons scattered. Kratos and Astraea ignored them, far too used to it to care. "Hey, it's that girl we had for months in Thebes" Astraea flinched at the familier jeering voices.

Kratos turned, slowly. "She's found a new master! Whore moves on pretty quick" The large group of 10 men laughed to themselves, not noticing the rising fury in the pale man. "Father..." Astraea hissed, a warning, if nothing else. The men fell silent as one of their party approached Astraea, "She was so much fun...come on child, how about you and I have a little game?" The man moved his hand lower, and brushed Astraea's breast. It was the last straw. With a roar that would shake the pillars of Olympus, Kratos rushed towards the Thebian. The man screamed, and tried to run. Kratos swung his chained blades, and the mans torso was ripped from his legs. The other 10 men yelled, running. They were no match for the Spartan. Soon enough, Kratos was once again surrounded by corpses. The men deserved to die twice. Astraea stepped gracefully over a head, and walked over to her Father. "Thank you" Kratos pushed past her, and stormed upstairs to their room. Astraea sighed, and followed, careful to overstep the spreading puddle of blood. "Father?" Astraea called, knocking. There was no answer, so she let herself in. Her eyes widened, and jumped out of the way of a swinging blade. "Leave me!" Kratos roared, seating himself back down on the bed. "No" Astraea disobeyed. Kratos glared dangerously up at his daughter. "You dare defy me!"

Astraea nodded, "Yes. Whether or not you admit it, captain, you still require my aid" Kratos growled, "Your mother did not teach you manners, girl, but your disobedience will not be tolerated here" His daughter stared unblinkingly back, the only one Kratos had met in a long while that could stand his glare. "I'm sorry" Kratos blinked, leting his defences down, slightly. "I'm sorry those men were here. I'm sorry I cause you pain. I'm sorry I'm not your perfect daughter. But most of all I'm sorry that I was weak. I should've taken those bastards down when I had the chance" Astraea clenched her fist at the mention of her tormentors. Kratos sheethed his bloody swords. His eyes were, for the first time in years, warm. "Come, you have not slept in days" Kratos guided Astraea to one side of the huge bed. Astraea let her golder hair down, and settled into the sheets. Kratos actually tucked them up to her chin, before realising what he was doing, and stopped. "Goodnight Father" Astraea mumbled, already loosing her fight with conscious thought. "Sleep well, daughter" Kratos muttered. He promised himself he'd never feel like this again. The constant compassion that welled inside him at looking his little girl. A young woman now. Kratos never got to see her learn to walk, talk, loose her first tooth. He looked away from the sleeping form. He couldn't be a Father again, not after he lost precious Caliape, whom he loved dearly. He lost everything, he couldn't bear to loose it again. He needed to be stoic, strong, invincible. He lay down next to his daughter, feeling the body heat radiating off of her. He couldn't stop the feelings even if he tried. He turned and stared into the innocent face of his daughter. He would have to take that innocence and compact her into a fighting machine, like himself, if he was to keep her alive. For now, however, he was content at simply gazing into the face of his daughter, more beautiful than any Goddess, under the cover of night.


	3. Chapter 3: Practise

Astraea fell to the floor, panting, spent. Kratos simply slid his blades back onto his back, cool and composed, glaring at his daughter. "If this is your best you will most certainly fail in battle" he snided, turning his back. Astraea inahaled deeply, her mouth set in a angry line, "Sorry to dissapoint, _father, _but if I'm not mistaken I was fighting fine on my ship" Kratos smirked, but didn't let be seen, "One battle won doesn't mean all battles will be" Astraea sighed in annoyance of her cryptic father, and stood up, picking up her discarded blade. They were back on the ship, it's course set for nowhere in particular, the sun was shining, and both Spartans skin were shining with sweat. Kratos waited for Astraea to try to get past him, but to no avail. "Well?" he snarled. He could almost hear Astraea rolling her eyes, "I prefer to have an opponent, sir, rather than a sacrifice" Kratos turned, swords at the ready, "What makes you so confident?" he asked, shocked at the soft tone of his voice, almost fatherly. Astraea smiled bitterly, "I'm still alive" she whispered, simply. Kratos lunged, cathing Astraea off guard, but she was nimble. She turned sharpy, barely missing the flying sword. She ducked below the next blow, and ran in a circle around her father, before jumping over Kratos' brutal swing. She whipped around, and her she pressed her blade against her father's neck, barely nicking the skin. "Better" he growled. Suddenly, he spun, making Astraea loose her grip, and fall to the ground with a sickening thud. "But not good enough" he sneered, before turning away as if in disgust. Astraea sighed in dissapointment, and rested her head against her bruised arms. After all those years of trying to make her father proud, of fighting against her attackers, she just continued to dissapont. She should've just let those Thebians kill her.

At the small thought of the jeering men, their pressing hands, their deep cuts and torture, Astraea's body rushed with anger. She reached for her swords, sat up silently, and threw it. In a brief second, Astraea panicked that her father wouldn't notice. But nothing got past Kratos. Sensing the flying blade, Kratos simply stood aside, and watched at the sword flew past him, and embeddded itself into the wall of his cabin. Impressive. "That anger" he muttered, turning to meet his daughter's defiant green eyes, "You must use it against your enemies, use it as a weapon. It is the only way a woman like you will survive" Astraea grimaced as she stood up, clutching at her damaged stomach, and Kratos felt a slight pull of pity, before his masked it with anger. "You mustn't show weakness" he roares. Astraea simply smirked, pushing past her father, not fearing his anger any more than she would a puppy, "I have been hiding my weaknesses for far too long, sir, forgive me if I don't in my father's presence" At that, Kratos' shoulders slumped. He had a feeling that to keep his daughter alive and safe was neccessary, or course. But to keep her, he couldn't treat her like he treated everyone else in his life. For the first time since his wife and daughter dies, he had something to fight for. Now, he just had to make sure it stayed that way.


End file.
